


Deep Cover

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7405660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Prompt) Blindfolded and bound, Hermione must discover who her captor is and what is his reason for keeping her in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: Prologue

Hermione Granger had just suffered the most emotional, first and last day of her career as a nonexistent Ministry spy. As she listlessly hung her cloak in the closet, she was unprepared to be attacked in the safety of her tiny flat. A sack covered her head and a voice chanted the sleep spell, ‘ _Somnus_!’

 

Refreshed was not the adjective Hermione would choose to describe how she felt upon awakening. Her arms were throbbing with pins and needles; they were spread out and fixed with chains or magic. She couldn’t properly tell which through her numb limbs. A blindfold covered her eyes and no amount of rubbing her face on her shoulder budged it. Hermione took a calming breath as fear crept up her spine. Panicking would do no good.

 

Hermione strained her ears but heard nothing; not even a clock ticking. For some reason, she got the sense that she was not in a dungeon. The mild air temperature did not fluctuate and was not damp. The witch sniffed, detecting unfamiliar cologne and a hint of mold as if she was somewhere ancient.

 

Standing on her toes, Hermione was able to relieve the ache in her arms. She noted that her feet were bare and curled her toes into thick pile. Thankfully, she could feel that she was still fully robed with the exception of her shoes and socks. Odd, that.

 

Muffled footsteps sounded and Hermione felt her blood run cold. For a moment, she was deaf but for the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears. The footsteps didn’t sound again and Hermione sagged in her bindings. Frustration welled and the witch jerked on her arms. She struggled a bit, testing the range of movement of her legs. Her feet encountered nothing.

 

A small sob escaped her lips as agony shot through her arms, once more. Her voice sounded loud in the silence and she went quiet. Time passed. Hermione spent it attempting to circulate the blood in her arms by standing on her toes. She may have napped.

 

By the time footfalls announced someone approaching and the metallic twist of a doorknob grated Hermione to full, startled awareness, she was going mad. Her last mission had involved a Time-Turner and she hadn’t properly recovered. Everything hurt; she was exhausted and starving.

 

“It took some time to reconstruct a particular piece of my memory, Ms. Granger,” purred a silky voice.

 

“Lucius,” she breathed, terrified but glad to identify her captor.

 

“It’s taken _twenty-eight years_!” he hissed.

 

“I’m so sorry, Lucius,” she gushed. It may have been twenty-eight years to him, but it had been only yesterday for her. “I did what I thought best,” she added in a whisper. Shame filled her. Hermione’s mission strictly forbade her interaction with any persons in the past; she was to observe and report, nothing more. Hermione Granger had certainly broken that rule. And she’d Obliviated Lucius to cover it up...


	2. Chapter 2: Hogwarts, 1972

Hermione tucked the Time-Turner into the neck of her robes and checked to make sure that the Invisibility Cloak, a gift from Harry, covered her. Due to not having grown much taller than when she’d been a student, the cloak just fit. With a deep breath, she ventured into the corridors of Hogwarts, almost ten years before she’d been born. If her turns were correct, Hermione should be able to observe James Potter as a Second Year student.

 

Weak sunlight warmed the high windows of the corridor. Hermione judged it to be dawn. No students would yet be about. The castle felt small, dark and cold as she moved silently towards the Great Hall.

 

Once in the Hall, Hermione secured an out-of-the-way spot to lean against the wall.  She felt a glow of affection for the castle as she watched the enchanted ceiling reflect rose, orange and then gold with the sunrise. When students finally began filing in, Hermione was surprised at their quietness and that they numbered so few. The Gryffndors entered in a gang and were, by far, the loudest group. Hermione picked out James Potter with ease; he looked so much like Harry that she felt a pang of reminiscence for days past. He was not as small as his son had been at the same age but he had the same messy, black hair. Sirius strolled beside James and Pettigrew followed close behind. Remus was missing from their gang and Hermione wondered if there had been a full moon the night before. Remus was involved in the event she was to witness and document. She needed to find out the date. It was possible she had missed it. The witch was so focused on the Marauders that she didn’t notice a student approaching her.

 

The tall wizard trod on her foot and Hermione let out a quickly-muffled cry of surprise and pain. The wizard stopped dead and turned to peer in her direction. Hermione found herself looking upon a young Lucius Malfoy and held her breath. Despite her fear, Hermione cracked a grin. If Pansy could see her father-in-law now, she would be wiping drool off her chin.

 

Lucius was tall and athletic. Pale hair hung to his shoulders and his grey eyes narrowed thoughtfully in Hermione’s direction. A Head Boy pin glinted on his shoulder. He shifted his weight, taking it off of his snake-headed cane. Whatever injury he’d suffered was relatively new.

 

Hermione drew her wand. She could not risk exposure. She began moving away in small steps, remaining as quiet as possible. Lucius reached out with the cane and swept it right through where Hermione had been standing. He stared for another moment, shook his head, and continued on his way out of the Great Hall. Hermione knew that she might be gone for years on a mission while only a moment passed in her present. On a whim, she followed the Slytherin.

 

Without any explanation other than simple curiosity, Hermione shadowed the wizard. His Head Student quarters were near the library.  Lucius opened a dark portrait – she didn’t see how or hear a password – and she managed to slip through before it shut. He kept the room cozy with orderly bookshelves and a crackling fire in the grate. One large armchair was before the fire and a bed stood in the far corner of the room. There were no windows but charmed sunlight trickled through the room. Lucius took up three books, a large scroll, an inkpot and quill and dropped into the chair.

 

As he read and scribbled away, Hermione moved silently about his room, examining the titles of his books and the pictures beside his bed. His family portrait included a little girl. Hermione had not realized Lucius had a sister. Then, she noticed a crumpled newspaper that had been smoothed out with the startling headline ‘Malfoy Wife and Daughter Among Missing.’ She swallowed, reminding herself that Voldemort’s first rise to power had just begun to pick-up. Disappearances were commonplace.

 

When a knock sounded at the portrait, Hermione whirled, wand in hand. The scratch of Lucius’ quill, scrape of turning pages, and crackling fire had lulled her into complacency. She’d almost forgotten she was on an assignment. Hermione must have made some sound because Lucius had gone still and was now gazing in her direction. Another knock, sharp and quick, sent him back into motion. He set his work aside and limped to open the portrait.

 

Narcissa Black was a lovely, young witch. If it weren’t for the arrogant lift of her chin and cruelty glittering in her eyes, she’d be even prettier.

 

“Narcissa,” Lucius greeted stiffly as his future bride sailed into his room.

 

“What are you doing, Lucius? It’s gorgeous outside and I want you to escort me to Hogsmeade.”

 

“I’ve already said I’m busy,” Lucius replied curtly, regaining his chair.

 

Hermione watched the young couple with voyeuristic interest.

 

“We’re not married yet,” she heard Lucius mutter mutinously.

 

“You know I hate it when you mutter, Darling. What was that?”

 

“I’ve got a paper to finish,” he answered with finality.

 

Narcissa pranced around his chair to lean on the back of it and stroke her fingers over his shoulders. Lucius went tense.

 

“You know that _you_ don’t have anything to be worried about in the village,” she cooed.

 

Hermione could see cold rage on the wizard’s face. Narcissa was either oblivious to it or unafraid.

 

“Ask your dear Bella what’s become of my mother and sister,” Lucius growled.

 

Narcissa withdrew as if stung. She marched to the portrait and huffed. “I will not stand for this when we’re married,” she announced.

 

Once she was gone, Lucius let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Hermione processed the little scene. Lucius Malfoy was more complex than she’d ever believed. He was not looking forward to marrying Narcissa and had a damned good reason to dislike Death Eaters. So then, why had he become one..?

 

The wizard sat up and cringed with discomfort. He stood, leaning heavily on his cane, and summoned a bundle of material that had been sitting at the foot of his bed. Hermione fought the urge to help Lucius. She was seeing him for the first time. Never once had she considered his perspective and history.

 

As Lucius stepped through the portrait and made slow progress down the corridor with his bundle, Hermione followed; a silent and conflicted ghost. Too late to allow him privacy, Hermione realized that she’d followed him to the prefects’ bathroom.


	3. Chapter 3: Bath Time

Hermione shot an annoyed glance at the door. Lucius would definitely notice if it opened. She was momentarily startled to hear a familiar wailing reverberate off the walls.

 

“Be gone!” Lucius threatened Moaning Myrtle.

 

Hermione couldn’t help but be impressed when Myrtle took one look at Lucius’ wand and disappeared through the wall. They must have met before. Hermione wondered what Lucius had done to the ghost that she listened to him. Then again, Lucius was a Slytherin and Head Boy. Neither attribute were attained without reason.

 

When Lucius directed the taps to turn, turquoise water gushed to fill the large tub. A sharp, minty fragrance filled the air and Hermione wondered what, in Merlin’s name, she had been thinking to follow young Lucius into the bathroom.

 

He began to disrobe and Hermione turned away. She paced to the opposite end of the room, irritated with herself. It was as if her return to Hogwarts had stirred up the hormones of youth. Her mind rattled with her invisibility and the immorality of voyeurism. She glanced at Lucius, despite her torn conscious. And Hermione forgot her concern. It wasn’t the wizard’s nudity but his leg that caught her attention. As Lucius slipped into the water, Hermione could not help but notice his twisted knee.

 

From the wizard’s blissful expression, Hermione gleaned that they would be there awhile. She slid to sit on the cold floor. She noted how changed the wizard was in private. He appeared at peace.

 

“Ground scarab beetle,” Lucius murmured, stretching his arms and relaxing them. “Armadillo bile and,” he huffed and then added “minced ginger root.”

 

Hermione grinned, listening to him. Was he reciting potions recipes? Those were the ingredients for a Wit Sharpening Potion. Amused, Hermione listened as he went through several more potions. She bit her tongue when he missed pomegranate juice from the Strengthening Solution. He went on for some time, swimming as he recited. Hermione would have to be made of stone not to take notice of Lucius’ athletic body. But she remained patiently still and horribly intrigued.

 

By the time Lucius lifted himself from the pool, Hermione’s stomach was growling. She had packed some sustenance in her charmed purse but did not dare rifle through it in the echoing bathroom. Lucius moved slowly to the showerhead, his limp less pronounced after his long soak. He stood under a torrent, steam billowing from the hot water, and Hermione was entranced by his solidarity and strength. Her own body flooded with heat when she saw that he had taken himself in his hand. Hermione could not look away.

 

When Lucius left the bathroom, Hermione silently followed him. She made no excuses to herself that she was becoming obsessed with the wizard, but she was troubled over it. She’d traveled back to perform a mission for the Ministry Archives. She was abusing her power most profoundly. Hermione reminded herself that she could return to the time she left no matter how long she was gone.

 

Back in his room, Lucius dressed while Hermione continued to fret. She promised herself that at the next opportunity she would separate from the Slytherin, and not be so foolish as to break away from her mission again. Hermione now knew more about Lucius Malfoy than anyone else probably did. He was an academic and in an arranged marriage. His sister and mother were victims of Voldemort. Hermione watched Lucius lazily directing his shoes to tie with his wand and forcibly shoved the image of him in the shower from her mind. She would never look at him in the same way again.

 

When the wizard should have gone to the Great Hall for lunch, he sat down with a book and fell deep into his studies, summoning an apple from a bowl of fruit. Hermione’s stomach growled as the smell of the fruit reached her. Lucius’ quill went still and he glanced sharply around his room. Had he heard that?

 

Hermione’s heart stopped and restarted as Lucius drew his wand from his cane.

 

“I’m not alone, am I?” the wizard murmured.

 

Hermione’s body went cold. She drew her wand, watching Lucius sit up as she quietly moved away from him. He pulled a small Sneakoscope out of his pocket and held it up. Hermione was relieved that it didn’t whistle.

 

“It looks as if neither of us mean harm,” Lucius drawled.

 

For a moment, Hermione considered showing herself. If she did, she would be gravely punished by the Department of Mysteries as well as the Head of the Archives. Altering the past was utterly forbidden. The crime was not worth the cost. She wondered if she ought to hole up under the bed until he fell asleep.

 

“ _Specialis revelio_!”

 

Hermione gasped as Lucius’ spell covered her in glittering pinpricks of light. Wand aimed at her, Lucius leapt to his feet.

 

Left with no other option, Hermione pulled the cloak from her head. It was an impediment if she needed to duel.

 

“You’re a witch!” Lucius exclaimed.

 

“I am,” Hermione replied, wand as steady as Lucius’.

 

“I thought you might be a poltergeist.”

 

Hermione did not reply. Adrenaline had flooded her senses. She had no idea what to do. Someone that she knew from the past had seen her face. She was altering things. Hermione would have to fix her mistake before returning to her own time.


	4. Chapter 4: Enemy or Ally?

“Is that necessary?” Lucius asked, nodding at her wand.

 

“You tell me,” Hermione replied. Neither she nor Lucius lowered their wands.

 

“How long have you been here?”

 

Hermione fought the urge to answer him truthfully. “Not long,” she replied, finally dropping her wand arm to her side.

 

Lucius lowered his wand tip as well. “You’re not a student.”

 

“Not anymore,” Hermione stated.

 

“Pardon me, but I must sit,” Lucius said. He lowered himself onto the desk chair, favoring his left leg. “Of what interest am I to you?”

 

“Little,” Hermione lied.

 

“Explain your presence in my room.”

 

Hermione pursed her lips, “An accident.”

 

“Lie,” Lucius casually accused.

 

“If I told you, I’d have to Obliviate you.”

 

“Won’t you be doing that, regardless?”

 

“I have no choice.”

 

“Then, why not tell me everything?”

 

“I’ll tell you some,” Hermione replied, amused. She could not recall the last time she’d been able to banter properly with a man. Funny, she had not liked how Lucius spoke to Narcissa, but he was speaking to her quite differently. He looked at her differently too. Perhaps he reserved cool hatred only for his bride-to-be.

 

Hermione claimed a footstool from the corner and pulled an orange from her satchel. “I work for the Ministry,” she announced.

 

“Is that all..?”

 

“I conduct research for the archives.”

 

“Research?” Lucius prompted, watching her peel the orange.

 

“Historic research,” Hermione clarified.

 

“Are you telling me you’re from the future?” Lucius chuckled.

 

Hermione’s stomach twisted to espy amusement in the taciturn wizard. “I haven’t said that.”

 

“Not in so many words, clever girl. I think I might like you,” the wizard purred.

 

Hermione’s insides caught afire. She had not thought Lucius would be so charming. Particularly, not to her. And she had never suspected that she would be susceptible to charm. Lucius, however, disarmed her. Against everything she knew, she liked him too. He lifted a brow at her and she grinned, like an idiot, at the ground. Her face burned as she vividly recalled watching him in the shower.

 

“Are you investigating me?”

 

“No,” Hermione replied.

 

“Would you tell me if you were?”

 

“I doubt it,” Hermione answered. She grew uncomfortable under Lucius’ pale stare.

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

Hermione looked at her orange peels, relieved that he was changing the subject. “Starving.”

 

They arrived in the Great Hall late for lunch but Hermione was able to sneak a few pieces of hot chicken off of a serving plate. She circled James and Sirius as they snickered at Severus Snape. What was Hermione supposed to glean from the boy as a second-year? Hermione wondered if her first assignment was a test of some sort. She’d rather watch flobberworms fry. Compared to Fred and George, the Marauders were downright tame. And not a little bit mean.

 

Annoyed, Hermione rejoined Lucius at the Slytherin table. Either he was being shunned, or his friends had accompanied Narcissa into Hogsmeade. Whatever the case, Lucius ate alone. Hermione couldn’t help but remember her own school years; she’d often speculated that without Harry and Ron, she might have been ostracized very similarly.

 

Invisible, Hermione sat next to him on the bench. Even though he would’ve felt the movement beside him, Lucius made no acknowledgement of her. It had been his suggestion that they go to the Great Hall together. Hermione had agreed, due to her state of acute hunger, but she had been very firm in insisting that Lucius was to do nothing that might seem strange or suspicious to others, lest her cover get blown further.

 

When he was finished eating, Lucius got up and headed back to his room. Hermione followed, forgoing her previous plan to separate from him at the earliest opportunity. She wondered why she didn’t want to part from him. Perhaps it was that she felt the beginnings of a friendship, perhaps it was sympathy after having witnessed Lucius’ isolation in the Hall. Whatever the case, she removed her Invisibility Cloak once the portrait was shut and meandered Lucius’ room, openly examining his personal items.

 

“May I ask what happened to your leg?” Hermione blurted. She couldn’t resist asking. It was obviously a new injury and significantly less pronounced on him as a man. Lucius had resumed his studies but glanced up at her without any sign of annoyance.

 

“Three weeks ago, there was an attack on my home,” Lucius said, eyes fixed sightlessly on the memory. Hermione felt her insides go tight in immediate sympathy.

 

“The cowards waited until my father was out. I was hit by a spell and my leg trapped under a wall. They must have thought me dead or they would have killed me...”

 

Lucius focused on Hermione. “They took my mother and sister.”

 

“No ransom demand?” Hermione asked, feeling Lucius’ pain.

 

“The attack was meant to weaken my father. No ransom,” he added bitterly.

 

Hermione scowled. Why the devil would Lucius grow to become one of those he hated so much?

 

“You know me in the future,” he said suddenly. Hermione was sure that her silence was answer enough for him. “What kind of man am I?”

 

“I cannot say,” Hermione replied quietly, turning away. She didn’t trust herself; her emotions were thickening.

 

“If you’re going to Obliviate me, why not?”

 

He’d said that before and Hermione understood that he had a plan. He would try to thwart her erasing his memory. For the first time, Hermione realized that she might have trouble extracting herself from the past and she fell a little bit in love with Lucius for it. He was more than clever; he was intelligent and true intelligence made her knees weak. Hermione recognized that she might be in danger of losing her heart to someone she could not and would not ever have.

 

“I’m sorry about your mother and sister,” Hermione finally said, softly.

 

“How long will you be here?” he countered, ignoring her sympathy.

 

“I’m not sure. My mission is a bit vague,” Hermione admitted, reclaiming the footstool.

 

“Do you require anything further from me?” he drawled.

 

Hermione finally spotted some of the chilly, aloof man she knew. She had offended him by denying him answers. She was bound by rules of strict secrecy. Hermione would not jeopardize herself for a boy’s curiosity.

 

“Headquarters,” she said, grinning.

 

“Headquarters?” he repeated.

 

“Somewhere safe to hide, sleep, etcetera.”

 

“Classes resume tomorrow. I will not be available as cover for your entering and exiting my room.”

 

Hermione nodded. “I’ll find and follow you, or knock.”

 

“Do I marry Narcissa Black?”

 

Hermione’s grin faded. “Yes,” she answered.

 

“Thank you. That tells me much,” he said. He smiled but it didn’t reach his pale eyes. They were dark with bitterness.

 

“You have a son. And you love your family,” Hermione rushed to add. She wanted to give him some hope.

 

“A son,” he echoed. Lucius’ gaze focused keenly on Hermione. “I _knew_ you knew me.”

 

Hermione huffed, hiding her pleasure at Lucius’ teasing. She was breaking all sorts of rules! The Ministry would snap her wand if they ever found out! Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow, she would focus.


	5. Chapter 5: Closer

A distinctly male snore startled Hermione. She all but leapt out of her skin as she realized that she was snuggled up against a sleeping body. It took her a moment to remember where and _when_ she was.  Hermione carefully extricated her arm and leg from around the sleeping wizard. His snore stopped but he continued to breathe deep as she slid out of the bed.

 

How had she ended up in his bed?! Hermione distinctly remembered falling asleep in the armchair. Her hormones were in no shape to even attempt sharing a bed with Lucius Malfoy. Feeling prickly and cold, Hermione crept back to the chair. Her body positively zinged with awareness that she had been cuddling him! Mortified, Hermione pulled her knees up under her chin.

 

“You didn’t need to move on my account,” yawned Lucius.

                                         

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She closed her eyes and tried to get back to sleep. She must have slept because she woke up in Lucius’ bed, _again_. This time, at least, she was alone.

 

Breakfast was over and students were in classrooms by the time Hermione emerged from Lucius’ room. She was done with all silliness. She would find James Potter and stick to him until she witnessed the truth behind the rumored attack on the group of Hufflepuff first years. Today was the day of the attack, according to the calendar she’d found in Lucius’ room.

 

Under the Invisibility Cloak, Hermione made it into the Great Hall in time to grab some pasties and follow the Marauders on their way out. Remus was present. Hermione was glad to have accurate timing but then became saddened at the thought of leaving Lucius. She shoved the thought aside and found herself in Transfiguration, taught by a much younger McGonagall.

 

Magic, it seemed, did not change. The lessons Hermione sat through with the Marauders were the same she sat through in her second year. Apparently, magic was so well explored that Hermione was bored to tears.

 

At lunchtime, Hermione settled beside Lucius, noting that he was alone, again. She watched him eat and frowned as he methodically ate his dessert first. Hermione didn’t like that she liked him so much. Her growing emotional attachment was illogical and dreadfully inconvenient.

 

“I’ve never awoken beside a stranger,” Lucius muttered quietly.

 

How had he known she was there? “My name is Hermione,” she whispered. Why make it up? He was right. She meant to Obliviate him. “I’m sorry for that - last night,” she added.

 

Lucius said nothing and ate a second helping of chocolate pudding.

 

Hermione made an honest attempt to observe James Potter. She succeeded in developing a dislike for him. He was arrogant and Sirius led him to break rules with little coercion. Hermione never spotted the incident that she was there to witness. At the end of the day, she parted from James, Sirius, and Remus as they entered Gryffindor Tower.

 

It was possible the Archives had the date wrong. Hermione decided it wouldn’t hurt to attempt one more day of observation. She made her way, unimpeded, to Lucius’ room and knocked. He asked no questions.

 

It was getting late. Hermione was sprawled on the floor, reading, when Lucius’ magic lifted her and settled her onto the bed beside him. He lay on his side, lazily propped up on an elbow. Hermione’s face felt hot as she met his gaze.

 

“Why deny it? You like me and I like you. You’re going to leave and I won’t remember a thing,” Lucius purred.

 

Hermione wanted nothing more than to slide under him and give in. She didn’t feel right, though. It was as if she was misleading him. “In our present, you despise me,” she blurted.

 

“I don’t believe you,” Lucius announced, thoroughly unconcerned. “For what preposterous reason do I ‘despise’ you?”

 

Hermione struggled to focus as Lucius slowly caressed her cheek with his knuckles.

 

“I imagine you adopt your wife’s beliefs and I am Muggle-born,” Hermione replied, short of breath as his body slid closer to hers.

 

The wizard’s fingers traced designs on her neck. “That narrow-minded opinion belongs to madmen.”

 

He wasn’t taking her seriously at all. Hermione felt a bit desperate. “Lucius, I don’t know what brought you to it but I dare say no more.”

 

“Such fear! Are you afraid of me?”

 

“A little,” Hermione confessed. He was proposing a physical encounter with no thought to consequences!

 

“For Salazar’s sake! Why?” Lucius rolled onto his hands and knees to straddle Hermione with such mischievous confidence that she nearly giggled. She hesitated answering for a moment but gave-in because there was no sense lying. “Because I could lose my heart to you. It sounds so silly when I say it aloud.”

 

“No more so than if I was to say it,” Lucius muttered.

 

Hermione’s eyes went wide and she stared up at the wizard, more smitten with him every moment. “This is ridiculous. We can’t...”

 

“You are incorrect,” Lucius purred. He was being literal.

 

“We shouldn’t,” Hermione clarified.

 

“What is morality when you have magic and time travel to erase your mistakes?” He leaned closer and Hermione closed her eyes as his stubbled cheek caressed hers.

 

“You’re a bad influence,” she breathed.

 

“Slytherin,” he hissed into her ear.

 

“Trouble,” she teased back, lost in sensation. Heat built in her stomach and crawled down her thighs. She felt his hand on her body. His thumb moved in a wide circle over her hipbone. Embers shot through her insides and she finally reached up to touch him back. Hermione shyly slid her fingertips over his jaw.

 

“Why do you like me?” she wondered aloud, in awe of him and that in twenty-something years, he would look upon her with more hatred than she’d ever seen.

 

“Why do you like me?” he countered.

 

“I can’t explain it,” she whispered with a frown.

 

“I like that you’re not interested in my vault,” he offered. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as Hermione gently slid her hand down his neck and tugged the top button of his robes free. She met his gaze, again, and wondered if she could possibly make a worse decision. Insecurity built within her until Lucius spoke again.

 

“You will always regret it if you don’t...”

 

Hermione had been waiting for any reason to say yes. Anything that she could blame for the transgression her body and soul were begging to commit. Decision made, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his.

 

In the morning, Hermione awoke before Lucius and felt the weight of her actions. She had meddled in the worst way, allowing herself to be seen. That she had acted upon her desire was, to say the least, unprofessional. Hermione knew that this was the moment she should leave. As much as she wanted to touch him one last time, she dared not for fear of waking him. The witch slipped out of the bed, donned her robes and drew her wand. Hermione stared at him for a long time, trying to permanently fix the moment in her memory. Her eyes prickled with unshed tears and she spurred herself back into action.

 

“ _Obliviate_!”


	6. Chapter 6: At Present

“What did you do to me?” Lucius demanded.

 

“I – nothing!” she replied, saddened by his hatred and conflicted that she still felt something for the man holding her prisoner.  She was grateful for the blindfold hiding her eyes and which kept her from having to look into his.

 

“You performed a Memory Charm on me – why?”

 

“You spotted me while I was on an assignment.”

 

“I always felt an instinctive anger with you... _I want the memory_ ,” he growled.

 

“You don’t, Lucius,” she answered softly. “Let me go.”

 

“Your report states that you were gone one day. Why am I missing three?”

 

Hermione realized that Lucius must still have important connections in the Ministry to have seen her very confidential report.

 

“Three? That was my casting mistake,” Hermione lied, attempting to remain calm.

 

“Then it won’t do any harm to give me the memory.”

 

Lucius’ hand gripped her chin and she felt the heat of his wand point on her temple.

 

“You don’t want to see it,” Hermione warned through her teeth. But she focused on her memories of the last few days, making them more accessible. What on earth would he do to her? The room went quiet and Hermione imagined that Lucius was in a Penseive. She shook with a tremor of fear. She tried to calm herself but she mourned the loss of her secret night with him. It was special in a way that nothing else was. He might take any sort of revenge.

 

“Sweet Salazar,” he muttered. Hermione’s mind raced, wondering what he was watching, what he felt. The wizard might very well be humiliated. She heard his breathing hitch but nothing more.  

 

Hermione jumped, startled to feel hands on her right wrist. Her arms were gently released and fell to her sides. When she would have crumbled to the floor, a spell caught her and settled her into a chair. The blindfold fell from her eyes and she blinked, taking-in that she was somewhere in Malfoy Manor. Lucius stood before her, staring at her as if contemplating what to do.

 

“I have no words,” he announced and shrugged.

 

‘ _Not even an apology_ ,’ Hermione thought. “You need say nothing.”

 

“I understand why you did it,” he said, thoughtfully rubbing his jaw.

 

“I’d like to leave now,” Hermione replied.

 

“No,” Lucius answered.

 

“No?” Hermione echoed, confused. If he meant her no harm, she wanted her bed.

 

“No,” he said again. Hermione looked up at him and her breath caught. He was teasing her! Suddenly, it was as if no time had passed and they were back at Hogwarts. She could see his soul, a bit more experienced, a bit darker, but it was him. Her resolve melted as her insides fluttered.

 

“I’m sorry,” she offered again.

 

“You took the choice from me,” he said.

 

“Yes, for your safety.”

 

“You damned Gryffindors always have _noble_ intentions. I should have known...” he growled.

 

Hermione huffed.

 

“How are your arms?”

 

“They’ll be fine.”

 

Lucius lifted his wand and cast something on his hand. He moved close and placed his hand on her shoulder. Heat seeped into Hermione and she relaxed.

 

“Do you wish to retain that memory?” he asked.

 

 _What on earth did he mean to do?_ “Yes,” Hermione replied, frowning.

 

“I could take it from you as you did from me,” he drawled.

 

Hermione went still and her palm itched for her wand. “I did it to spare you, Lucius,” she whispered. Frustrated tears rose in her eyes. He may have released her but she was still very much at his mercy.

 

“You had no right!” Lucius thundered suddenly.

 

Hermione stared hard at the furious man, realizing that he was the predator, circling his prey. “If you’re quite through, I’d like my shoes and my wand.”

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

“No,” he replied. There was less humor in his repeated exchange but Hermione felt it again, that sting of pleasure. She _liked_ him.

 

“What is it you want, Lucius? You cannot keep me here. I have apologized.” Hermione’s heart hurt a bit. She had fallen a little in love and it was difficult to assimilate all she knew of Lucius into the wizard before her. Studying him as he stared sullenly back at her, Hermione understood something. He would never be the young man she’d known so briefly. She would never know _him_ again. The wizard glowering at her was dangerous, damaged. There was no knowing what he would do.  

 

Pushing aside her tangled emotions for later, Hermione fixed a determined gaze on Lucius. Her heart saw the boy but she focused on her newly-formed exit strategy. He narrowed his eyes as she continued to silently stare at him. She got up and moved straight at him. Lucius, spooked by her unexpected advance, stepped backwards, accidentally nudging a portrait with his shoulder.

 

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

 

“Your life went on as it should,” Hermione explained. He looked almost afraid as she reached up and placed her fingertips on his jaw. “I don’t understand why you’re angry.”

 

“Those missing days have haunted me all my life.” He paused as Hermione’s fingertips slid to his neck.

 

“When I found out that you were involved, I expected...” Lucius’ pale eyes unfocused as if he’d fallen into a memory.

 

“What?” she asked, stepping closer so that their bodies were less than a centimeter apart. Her other hand found his arm and cautiously touched it. He didn’t push her away. It was as if he was waiting to see what she might do.

 

“I expected the worst. I thought you would have manipulated me with some plot in mind.”

 

“You were a casualty of my mission,” Hermione explained softly. Her heart raced, being so near him. As a young man, he’d inspired desire in her but as a man, he stirred heat in her like she’d never felt in her life.

 

“What are you at?” he breathed. He still did not push her away.

 

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, forcing herself to focus. She looked up at him and slipped her hand down his arm to find the item he held. Her fingers touched the cool metal of his snake-headed wand and suddenly wrenched it out of his grasp. She pointed his wand at him as she hurried out of his reach.

 

The wizard’s demeanor changed. “Have a care, Hermione,” he growled.

 

Hermione had pushed her emotions aside but, in the face of his anger, they crashed into her like a wave. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want the young man she’d fallen in love with to be the wizard glaring at her. With a heavy heart, she looked at the wizard standing rigidly still. Did he really think she could hurt him? He understood nothing.

 

“Shoes, be damned,” she muttered. She tossed Lucius’ wand onto his desk and strode from the room. He wasn’t going to hurt her, either. He’d had plenty of opportunity. She’d leave and he’d let her.

 

Hermione moved quickly through the maze-like corridors and down stairwells, searching for an exit. She reached a wall of stained glass windows and wondered if she ought to break one and climb out. Did the Manor have no doors?

 

“Hermione.”

 

His voice made Hermione jump. She did not think he’d follow. He stood watching her from a shadowy corridor. His wand was sheathed in his cane and it remained there as he strode toward her. She remained motionless, waiting. She was still as his mercy.

 

As Lucius moved closer, Hermione swelled with desire and panic. He might not hurt her but it was no longer physical pain she feared. He had no memory of their night together other than whatever he’d pulled from her mind. She held no meaning to him other than being a Muggle-born witch. When Lucius finally stood before her, he was nearer than any normal discussion would warrant. Hermione had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. She could not read the older wizard as she had the younger. Lucius had learned to guard himself well.

 

“I’m not as young as I once was,” Lucius muttered, leaning over her. Thrilled, Hermione didn’t allow herself time to think. She only reacted. She met him halfway and kissed him. He pulled her close with long arms that tightened and hands that felt her curves as if memorizing her shape. His mouth and tongue worked hers as if he was starved for affection. His hand slipped intimately over her breast and Hermione gasped, breaking their kiss.

 

“Why?” she breathed. It made no sense that Lucius wanted her. He continued to hold her tight, as if frightened she would get away.

 

“You inspire emotion in me that I never understood,” he said. Hermione’s face was against his neck and she felt the rumble of his voice. She closed her eyes, never wanting to leave that spot.

 

“It is not hate?” she asked, already knowing the answer. Young Lucius was a shot of Firewhisky but the Lucius holding her was intoxicating.  

 

“Most certainly not,” he replied, stroking a hand down her hair and pressing kisses down her face until their lips met again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: First, thanks to DHLane for her awesome prompts! Got the juices flowing! Gushing thanks to my Beta-reader, Rehaniah_Bourne! And, last, but certainly not least, many thanks to Mistress Malfoy for putting the exchange together!  
> Prompt: Blindfolded and bound, Hermione must discover who her captor is and what is his reason for keeping her in the dark. No fluff. Rarepair. Romance, angst, UST, allusion to darkness, happy endings (although that does not have to mean marriage).  
> Originally published: May 5, 2013


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